Page 29 of The Tomorrows After You
I was half an hour late for the service. I tried sneaking in, but the damn door was heavy and creaked with every motion. I cringed at the sound it made.
The place washuge. Bigger than I remember, and I wondered if they had remodeled. The front lobby was larger than three of Riot’s double-wides and the actual room where Pastor Blackwell stood at the chancel and delivered his sermon was the size of the entire town square.
Every seat in every pew was taken.
I stared back at the eyes that had swiveled toward me. I smiled and wiggled my fingers in a sheepish wave. A fewtskswent through the crowd. Pastor Blackwell paused.
“Would someone kindly squeeze in to let our guest join us?”he commanded from the front. Magically, a seat on either side of the aisle opened up.
As he delivered his sermon, I studied Pastor Elias Blackwell. I had met him plenty of times back in school and he seemed like a nice guy. He was always busy and surrounded by people, but he had made a point to come to say hello to me, even though I’d never attended his services. He still knew every single person by name. Knowing how far his influence reached in this town, I reminded myself to keep a discerning eye.
He was handsome, a better-looking version of Jeremy with dark hair that had a smattering of salt and pepper behind his ears. And, boy, was he charming.
Pastor Blackwell moved methodically down the aisle toward me. I scanned the eyes in the room where everyone sat enrapt with his words. Heads bobbed. Guttural noises of agreement popped up. Everyone looked so... content. At peace. The sense of belonging here was palpable, and I envied it.
Eyes turned toward me when Pastor Blackwell finished his sermon and planted one hand on my shoulder with fatherly affection. The congregation’s eyes fell on me, and I heard muttering through the room.
“Katie is going to start passing around the collection plate. If you feel called to donate whatever amount you can spare, please do soresponsibly. Thank you all for coming, feel free to stay for the potluck downstairs in the function room. I believe Ms. Plainbottom also has a few community announcements if you could give her your attention, please.”
The collection plate moved through the congregation. Every single person pulled out money or checks and placed them into the plate. My eyes landed on the man I recognized from the night before who had almost urinated on the Center’s floor. He pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and coins and placed them in the basket.
My eyes turned to the podium where a petite brunette was barking into a microphone, failing to command anyone’s attention. As people started chatting and getting up to leave, she grew more flustered.
Katie Plainbottom, the girl that the woman on the bench mentioned in relation to Riot. Were they dating?
I eyed her up and down with suspicion. Riot had said I wasn’t his type. Wasshehis type? Still clad in one of those dumb headbands, she hadn’t changed much. She was a slight thing with a floral dress buttoned up to her chin. I couldn’t picture her with Riot’s scruffy, overgrown face. A stab of something I couldn’t put my finger on echoed in my gut.
As people shuffled out, I stood to face Pastor Blackwell. He shook hands with congregation members but moved toward me, his arms outstretched.
“Nicolette Parker!”He beamed at me, and I embraced his hug with a quick pat.“I was so thrilled to hear you were back in town. More so to see you join us today.”
I smiled.“It’s good to be back. I saw that Jeremy works for the police department now.”
“Deputy Chief.”He beamed.Wow.This familyreallyhad a grip on this town.“Are you staying for the potluck?”
“Well, I was hoping to schedule a time to sit down with you.”
“Of course, anything for Jeremy’sfavorite prom date.”He winked at me and my stomach turned.
Elias Blackwell’s office was surprisingly drab. I had expected ornate, granite furniture with walls lined with bookshelves and religious relics. But it was a small room with fluorescent lighting and a chipped oak desk.
I sat across from him.
“What brings you to town, Miss Parker?”
“Chimera,”I said. I waited but Pastor Blackwell just blinked.“It sounds like a pretty vicious drug.”
His head bobbed.“It is. I lead a support group at least once a week but I’m afraid nearly the entire Valley has been consumed by it.”I studied his face. Sincerity was etched all over his downcast expression.
“You lead support groups at the Center?”
“Mm,” he nodded.
“You also fund it, don’t you?”
“Oh,Idon’t,” he corrected. “The church does. I am but its humble servant.”He smiled, and it looked genuine, but I noted it could very well be his way of alleviating responsibility.“Yes, it’s just one of the great works the church does.”
I nodded.“Yeah, it’s quite the operation,”I scrunched my face.“That has to be quite the heavy financial commitment.”I finished my sentence and sat in silence waiting for him to fill it.
